


Hazards of Napping

by Magnex91



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Flower Crowns, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-22 21:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnex91/pseuds/Magnex91
Summary: Iron Bull learns why his Dalish girlfriend shouldn't supervise his naps. Originally written for my girlfriend, who ships her OFC with Iron Bull.





	Hazards of Napping

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I had no idea how to properly tag this, but it involves shipping a canon character with an original character, specifically my girlfriend's Dalish elf character. It was pretty well-received on Tumblr, so I thought I'd bring it here.

As someone who spent a majority of his life in the company of non-Qunari, Iron Bull did his best to not enforce stereotypes on the people around him. That meant not assuming every human he knew was a monster, not assuming that all dwarves he met were in it for the money, and not assuming that every elf he knew loved nature.

Sometimes it was impossible.

For the fifth time that day, Iron Bull let out a deep exhale. The Inquisitor had wanted to get more demon experience for Cassandra, and that meant the Iron Bull had a day off that his lover, an elven mage with a talent for herbs, refused to squander. This meant a trip into the Hinterlands, into a corner that she said was safe. Sheltered by the tall mountains, his kadan had insisted on running off into the wilderness by herself, promising to be back with presents.

“Presents?”

“Just stay,” she had said. “I’ll be back soon.”

That had been a while ago, but Iron Bull considered himself to be passing the time very effectively. Before they left, he had taken a book from Solas’ compendium of tomes; this one about the origins of Dawnstone as weaponry. He could have spent the whole day with that book, but his kadan came out of the woods, bearing more flowers than he had ever seen.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one bringing you flowers?”

“I want to make something for you.”

“With an entire field?”

“Hush.” She seated herself in his lap and started weaving the stems together. Old Dalish trick, Iron Bull assumed. He was content. The sun was warm, his lover was close by, and the book was getting denser by the moment. A yawn broke through his lips. Iron Bull pressed a kiss to her cheek and laid back.

“Wake me when you’re done.”

“Will do,” she murmured. She was engrossed in her task already; her small fingers wove the stems together. Quiet was rare for a mercenary, even a quiet sleep was rare and coveted. Especially in such a comfortable place. Iron Bull was ready to take full advantage of it.

* * *

Iron Bull woke to the sound of laughter. He opened his eyes and then immediately closed them. “You are the last person I want to see first thing in the morning.”

“First thing in the  _afternoon_ , Boss.” Krem grinned. “Come on. Its almost sunset.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Your lady love? Back to camp. We’re shipping out, or so says the Inquisitor.”

Iron Bull sat up and, as he did so, he felt something bushy and soft brush against his shoulders. Puzzled, he touched his horns; they were wreathed with flowers. “Krem,” he growled.

“Not me this time, Boss. Your girl, maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s a safe bet.” Iron Bull remembered the flowers in her lap, the way she was weaving the strands together. She had spent the entire afternoon covering his horns in flower wreathes. “‘Make something for you,’ my ass,” he grumbled.

“You look very pretty, Boss.”


End file.
